Mag-log inAva's Pov
I ran down the same long spiral stairs, my chest heaving hard, my body shaking. I couldn't believe what had just happened in there. Jerome... Autumn. Now, it suddenly all made sense. The reason he was never at home. The reason we never moved into the house we had deemed to be our dream home. The reason he never touched me. I was just his placeholder wife, and she was the woman who had his body, his soul, his heart. It broke me that after three years, he could never still love me. Did he drive her down here? How did it feel having him sleep on the same bed? Being able to touch him, being able to feel his kisses? "Ava!" Before I could react, a strong hand grabbed my arm and turned me around violently, forcing me to stop. My eyes met Jerome's, and in our entire three year marriage, this was the most emotion I saw in his eyes. He looked livid, like he could kill someone. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" He asked, his teeth gritted, his eyes wide. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" "I am divorcing you!" I asserted, my chest heaving as I struggled to get out of his grip. "With whose permission? Why the fuck do you thimk I would let you divorce me, Ava? Huh? Why the hell do you think I would let you leave me?" "You... you got my sister pregnant!" I yelled, pushing him away from me, my eyes wide. "You slept with her multiple times when I barely got you to sleep with me throughout our entire marriage! You could only touch me drunk, yet you got my own sister pregnant. That's enough for any self-respecting woman to get a divorce, don't you think, Jerome?" I pushed him away from me, and he took a step back, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. I swallowed hard, tears filling my eyes fast. "I won't let you," he said simply. "I won't ever let you." "We'll see," I replied, sniffing hard. "Congratulations on your first child, Jerome Parker. You will probably make a good dad." I turned away, but I had barely taken a step away from him when he covered the distance again. He pushed me back to the railing, his body pushed up on mine, his hand wrapped gently around my neck. My eyes widened as they met his, and I couldn't breathe. The proximity was maddening, and the purse I had been clinging on to fell to the ground with a soft thud. "You... you are bluffing," he said, running his hand slowly down my chin. "Look at you, Ava. You will never be able to live without me." A single tear rolled down my cheeks. "That's what I thought too. But you are not the man I fell in love with. You are not the man I vowed to stay with no matter what. That Jerome.... he would never cheat on me like this. He would never humiliate me like this. This Jerome.... this Jerome did all of that, and I don't have to stick around for it. The least you could do was honour your vows and yet... you couldn't even do that. I have no obligations to stay with you. I already wasted three years. I am not wasting anymore." His grip around me loosened, and I gently moved away, tears running down my cheeks. Without another word, I turned away, my hands grabbing unto my dress, my chest heaving hard. I stopped and turned, half expecting him to be there. He was gone, but I wasn't even surprised anymore. I am not the woman he wants. I never will be. I turned around, and Autumn was standing in front of me, her eyes thin. I moved away from her path, but she suddenly grabbed my hair, forcing me to stop. "Let me go!" I screamed, but she only held on tighter. "You are happy, huh? You ruined this party! The reporters are hounding us now, and for what? Because you couldn't take the fact that someone would choose me over you!" I pushed hard, my chest heaving. "Is that why you seduced my husband? Because you were always jealous that everyone wanted me instead?!" "You fucking wench!" "Guess what," I said, my chest heaving. "No one will ever want you, still. The man you willingly got pregnant for, Jerome? Guess what? He was jist here with me, and he is not allowing me to divorce him. You... you are always going to lose, Autumn. Always!" Her eyes glazed over with anger, and she reached out, grabbed me hard, and pushed me down the remaining stairs. I fell on my stomach, and a sharp pain pierced through me. I gave a small yell, my hand reaching out to hold onto anything. The pain was unbearable, and I curled up, my hands wrapped around my stomach, my body shaking. I was covered in sweat, and I could barely see beyond the blur of tears sitting on my eyes. "Look at you," Autumn suddenly said, pulling a small knife out of her purse. I dreaded what she would be doing to me. What she would be capable of. Nothing she did tonight was expected, and I wondered just how far this mania would go. "All helpless. Jerome belongs to me, Ava. As long as I have the strings... " she tore her dress, then gave a small laugh. "He will always dance to my tunes, sweetie. You... you will be discarded in no time." I watched in pain and horror as she tore her thigh with the knife, blood running down her legs fast. "What..." I managed to say, "What are you doing?" She laughed. "Watch TV tomorrow, lil sis." Colour drained from my face as I watched her turn away and head straight back to the banquet hall. I closed my eyes, tears running down my cheeks. This wasn't how I envisioned tonight. This wasn't even in my wildest, most pessimistic dreams, and yet.... yet... "Ava?" It was Jerome, but I was slowly losing consciousness, and I couldn't even bring myself to turn to him. I mustered all of my strength to open my eyes, only for them to close again, the last bit of consciousness leaving me as I felt someone hold my hand.AVA MAXWELL’S POVThe guest room was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains I had drawn hours ago. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of my own misery—salt tears, untouched food, and the suffocating weight of silence.I lay curled on the unfamiliar mattress, my knees pulled to my chest, my hand resting protectively over my stomach.A brother.The thought looped in my mind like a sick, twisted mantra. My baby—this tiny, fragile miracle I had only just begun to celebrate had a brother. A three-year-old brother with Jerome’s eyes, Jerome’s jawline, and Jerome’s DNA flowing through his veins.The paper Adrian had delivered lay on the floor where I had dropped it hours ago. I didn’t need to look at it again. The numbers were burned into my retinas.99.9998%.There was no margin for error. No room for doubt. Science didn’t lie. Men did.Jerome had lied.He had looked me in the eye, sworn on our unborn child’s life, and lied.A fresh wave of nausea rolled th
JEROME’S POV The guest room door was locked. I stood outside in the hallway, my forehead pressed against the cold wood, listening to the muffled sounds of Ava crying inside. Every sob was a dagger twisting in my gut. I wanted to break the door down. I wanted to storm in there, hold her, and force her to believe me. But I couldn't. She was pregnant. Stress was dangerous. If I pushed her too hard, I risked hurting the baby. So I stood there, helpless, in the hallway of my own mansion, while my world crumbled on the other side of a piece of wood. "Boss." Adrian’s voice was low, coming from the top of the stairs. I pulled away from the door, my face a mask of cold fury. I walked over to him, keeping my voice hushed. "Tell me you have something," I growled. "Tell me you found out she's a con artist. Tell me the kid is an actor." Adrian looked grim. He held out a tablet. "It's all over the news, Jerome. 'The Billionaire's Secret Son.' The stock dropped 8% in
AVA MAXWELL’S POV The flashbulbs were blinding. Pop. Pop. Pop. Each burst of light felt like a physical blow, disorienting me, stripping away the air in the room until I was gasping. The sound of the crowd had shifted from a polite hum to a roar of whispers and gasps, a tidal wave of judgment crashing down on us. But I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t stop staring at the boy. He was clinging to the woman’s leg, hiding his face in the folds of her cheap grey dress, but every few seconds, he would peek out. And every time he did, my heart shattered a little more. The dark, messy hair. The shape of his jaw. And those eyes. Those piercing, distinct hazel-green eyes that I woke up to every morning. He looked exactly like Jerome. “Ava.” Jerome’s voice was close to my ear, urgent and desperate, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater. I felt his hand reach for my arm, his fingers warm and calloused, trying to pull me back to him. I flinched. The movement was i
AVA MAXWELL’S POV "Two weeks." I stared at the calendar on my iPad, the days marked off with big, red digital Xs. Outside the glass doors of the terrace, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and the world was turning. But inside? Inside, time had stopped. "I have been stuck in this house for two weeks, Helen. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. I have memorized the pattern of the wallpaper in the hallway. I have reorganized my closet three times—by color, then by season, then by fabric. I have even watched an entire season of a baking show, and you know I don't bake. I hate flour, Helen. It gets everywhere." Helen laughed from the other side of the video call. She was sitting in my office—my office—at the company headquarters, sipping an iced latte that looked painfully refreshing. The background noise of phones ringing and printers humming made my heart ache with jealousy. "You are glowing, though," Helen teased, leaning into the camera. "Rest suits you,
AVA MAXWELL’S POV The morning sun filtered through the heavy, cream-colored silk drapes of the master bedroom, casting a soft, golden haze over the room. I floated in that delicious, heavy space between sleep and wakefulness, my body warm, cocooned in the high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. The air in the room was cool, conditioned to perfection, but the distinct, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and musk—his scent—lingered on the pillow beside me, grounding me before I even opened my eyes. I reached out instinctively, my hand seeking the solid warmth of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart that had become my favorite lullaby. But my fingers met only cool, empty linen. My eyes fluttered open, panic flaring for a millisecond before memory washed over me. We are safe. We are home. We are pregnant. I pushed myself up on my elbows, blinking against the light, my hair tumbling over my shoulders in a messy curtain. "Jerome?" I called out, my voice thick with sleep.
AVA MAXWELL'S POV. The drive back to the mansion felt like floating on a cloud. Helen was still buzzing with excitement beside me, her chatter filling the silence of the car, but my mind was elsewhere. My hand rested instinctively over my lower stomach, a secret smile tugging at my lips. Two pink lines. It felt surreal. After the pain, the loss, the terror of the last few months, this tiny, fragile hope felt like a miracle. A second chance. “You have to tell him tonight,” Helen insisted, turning in her seat to look at me. “Don’t you dare wait, Ava. If you keep this from him for even a second longer than necessary, I will burst.” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m not going to keep it from him, Hel. But I can’t just blurt it out over dinner. I want it to be special. This… this changes everything.” “It changes everything,” she agreed, her eyes misty. “He’s going to lose his mind. The man already treats you like fine china. Once he knows you’re carrying his heir? Good luck wa







